Stargazing
by Jadzia Bear
Summary: On a sleepless night, Mal shows Simon new ways to pass the time. But on a small ship, sex always changes things. Or does it? Mal/Simon slash.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Joss is boss, these characters are not mine.

**Warning:** Slash

**Set:** Post 'Objects in Space' and pre BDM

**A/N:** Huge thanks to Tyloric for his mad beta-reading skills!

* * *

Simon lay in his bunk staring at the ceiling. He'd left the infirmary hours ago, but the scans of River's brain still revolved endlessly through his mind. He needed solutions, although at this point (he figured it was somewhere past ship's midnight, maybe 1am), he would have settled for sleep. Neither were forthcoming.

At times like these, when he was all out of ideas, when all he had were questions without answers, he was acutely aware of the fact that he was River's only hope for a cure. There were no other doctors to discuss treatments with, no specialists he could consult. The weight of the task sat heavy on his shoulders.

The dull but persistent throb of a tension headache resonated through his skull. With the intention of getting a drink of water, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. As he pushed himself to his feet, his eyes fell on the sink in the corner of the room, but he quickly dismissed it in favour of walk to the kitchen.

He stepped out into the hallway. _Serenity_ was silent except for the comforting hum of her engines. He padded softly through the still, dark ship towards the upper decks.

* * *

Mal was on the bridge when he heard a sound echo down the passage towards him from the galley. He knew it was most likely one of the crew, up for a midnight snack or the like, but ever since Jubal Early's surprise visit, he had a new rule about not ignoring anything that went bump in the night. He moved silently down the steps and through the dim passage, keeping close to the wall. As he approached the dining area he peered out carefully to investigate the source of the noise.

A smirk tugged at his lips as he discovered a sight more pleasant than he'd been expecting. Not only was it _not_ a sociopathic bounty hunter, it was the young doctor – and he was shirtless. Simon had his back to Mal as he stood there drinking a glass of water. Mal took a quiet step forward and leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. He was now in full view of the doctor, if Simon turned around, which he didn't. Mal's gaze lingered on the younger man's sculpted form as he stood there, bathed in the yellow light of the galley; broad shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist, well-defined, muscular arms.

_Damn, they breed 'em pretty in the core_, Mal thought to himself, and not for the first time. Simon was still blissfully unaware that he was being watched, and Mal just couldn't pass up the opportunity to tease the poor young doctor.

"You know, I can recall there being a dress code in communal areas," Mal announced loudly. Simon spluttered into his drink as he spun around to face the captain. He began to choke. Mal strode over and thumped him on the back a few times, laughing silently.

"Captain," said Simon hoarsely, once he was able to speak again. "I wasn't aware you were still awake," he said, feeling like a fool. He hoped that Mal would assume the colour in his cheeks was due to the whole struggling-for-air thing, not the fact that he cared too much what Mal thought of him. Or that he was suddenly feeling a little self-conscious without his shirt.

"My turn to keep watch," Mal responded. "What might you still be doin' up?"

Simon took a careful breath, testing his traitorous lungs. "I was having trouble sleeping."

Mal nodded with more understanding than Simon could have comprehended in that moment. Mal was no stranger to sleepless nights. "Why don't you come up to the bridge?" he suggested. "A bit a' stargazing can help to ease a restless mind."

Simon eyed the captain suspiciously, but the offer seemed genuine. He cleared his throat and began to ask uncertainly, "Shall I go put on a-"

"Joke, Doc, it's called a joke. They have those on the central planets? Or did the Alliance outlaw them too?" he asked, taking Simon by his bare bicep and urging him in the direction of the bridge.

They moved quietly down the hallway, so as not to disturb the crew sleeping below, and ascended the stairs. Mal settled in the pilot's seat while Simon perched on the edge of the console.

"Stars. Gaze," ordered Mal as he gestured back and forth from Simon to the cockpit windows, then busied himself with checking the instruments.

Simon took a deep breath – a calming, hand-steadying breath, like the kind he took just before making a first incision. He released it slowly as he turned his gaze towards the pinpricks of light in the terminal blackness. Almost immediately he felt the pressure in his temples begin to ease, albeit just a little. Maybe Mal was right about stargazing as a legitimate form of mental relaxation.

He took another slow, deep breath and leaned back – and accidentally bumped a switch on the console behind him. His eyes shot open wide as an alarm began to blare. Mal jumped up, reached behind Simon, and thumped the necessary buttons to cut off the ear-piercing klaxon.

"You tryin' to knock us out of the sky?" Mal demanded. His eyes were fierce and his face was only inches from Simon's. He had him pinned against the console.

"No," whispered Simon, the whites of his eyes still showing. "Sorry."

Mal snorted. "Relax, Doc. I'm just kiddin'. Just one of those alarm things sayin' somethin' or another's broken. A shocker, I know," he grinned. "'Course, it did go off three months ago and I've just been hittin' the snooze ever since..."

Simon groaned, but he'd learned a long time ago that Kaylee could keep _Serenity_ in the sky with little more than a smudge of engine grease and the power of positive thought. He knew he could trust her to keep them flying. Or at least he could trust that Mal wouldn't listen to his complaints that he should spend more money on ship maintenance.

Mal still hadn't moved. His hands were planted on the edge of the console either side of Simon's hips, and as the captain's jovial mood subsided, Simon found himself an unwilling captive of his piercing blue eyes. There was an intensity there that he hadn't expected to find, and he began to squirm beneath it. He'd been nursing a hopeless crush for some time now, and being in such close proximity to the object of his affections was a little overwhelming.

Then something in Mal's face caught the physician's eye, making him forget his discomfort. He met Mal's gaze squarely as he began to catalogue symptoms and consider diagnoses. Dilated pupils, rapid shallow breathing – could be any number of diseases. He ran through the list in his mind, looking for other signs to help him reach a prognosis. No bloodshot eyes, profuse sweating or slurred speech, that narrowed down the options.

He raised a hand and touched the back of his fingers to Mal's cheek to check for cool, clammy skin, but found it to be warm and dry – and just a little bristly. Simon's fingers lingered a moment longer than they should have. In that instant, what started as the deft touch of a doctor examining his patient, suddenly became something else. Mal raised his eyebrows, a look of mild amusement on his face.

Simon hand dropped like a stone. "I was just checking to see if you had Moxon's syndrome," he said, painfully aware of how daft he sounded.

"That so?" said Mal, his voice husky.

It hit Simon like a cold drink thrown in his face. Mal wasn't sick, he was aroused. Now that he could see it, the lust in Mal's eyes was undeniable. Simon had never even considered the possibility that his feelings for the captain could be reciprocated. His brain struggled with this revelation in disbelief, but his body responded to the primal truth of it. He felt his heart begin to pound as the tension between them grew taut.

Mal took a long moment to run his eyes up and down Simon's chiselled torso, making Simon acutely aware that his chest was rising and falling with his own quickened breaths. When the captain locked eyes with him again, his gaze was even more fiery than before.

Mal searched Simon's face. He found surprise, more than a little, but he also found what he was looking for – a mirror of his own desire. Good, just as he'd thought, the doctor wanted him too.

Simon's lips parted slightly as his gaze flickered down to Mal's mouth. Mal slipped his hand behind Simon's neck and found the good doctor's soft lips with his own. It was all Simon could do to hold back a moan as his senses filled with Mal – his taste, his touch. When he dared to breathe, he breathed in Mal.

The captain's tongue sought entry to the young doctor's _shuai_ mouth, and it was granted. For a time Simon's entire 'verse was the captain's warm mouth, moist lips and expert tongue. The kiss grew deeper, more intense. Simon felt as if Mal could draw the very heart out his chest with the power of it. Somewhere at the back of his mind he was vaguely aware of what a cliché he was for feeling weak in the knees.

Mal ran his fingertips over Simon's smooth, firm body, grazing a nipple on the way and causing Simon's breath to hitch. He reached for the captain, pulling him closer. He parted his knees to allow room for one of Mal's thighs between his own.

Mal began to trail moist kisses along Simon's jaw. He found a sweet spot at his neck that near drove him to a frenzy. Simon's hands ranged all over Mal's body and eventually came to rest on his firm ass. He squeezed both cheeks and pulled the captain's hips closer, pressing his groin against Simon's thigh and drawing a soft grunt from him.

Mal crushed his lips against Simon's once more, relishing the taste of him. He wound one hand through Simon's hair and slid the other over the soft fabric of his pants, in the place where they strained to contain the hardened flesh within. He rubbed and massaged, and when this was no longer enough, he slipped his hand beneath the waistband. He took a firm hold and it wasn't long before he had the doctor almost whimpering under his steady stroke. His need was like a fire that razed him from head to toe, burning unchecked, until finally Mal tore his lips from Simon's.

They were both breathing hard. Mal rested his forehead on Simon's shoulder, forcing them both to stop and catch their breath. To Simon's dismay, Mal withdrew his hand. He rested it instead on Simon's hip.

"Wash'll be here any minute for the next watch," said Mal. "Go to your room and wait for me there."

Simon nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Mal took a step back and pulled the doctor to his feet. He drew him into an embrace and kissed him again, but slower and more tenderly this time. When Mal's strong arms released him, Simon had to use all his concentration to stay upright on his own and walk out the door without stumbling like he was drunk.

The captain watched the younger man's retreating form._ You'll have no trouble falling asleep when I'm done with you,__ xiaocao__, _he thought with a knowing smile.

* * *

**Chinese Translation**

_Xiaocao – _handsome boy

* * *

**A/N:** My first slash. Reviews and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Special thanks for this chapter go to luv0iz0luv and Ella Greggs!

* * *

Simon had not long disappeared from view when the hatch to Wash and Zoe's quarters _thunked_ open.

_Close one,_ thought Mal, his mouth forming a silent whistle as he hooked his thumbs under his suspenders. Wash's sleep-dishevelled hair appeared, followed by the rest of him, as he climbed the ladder.

Mal greeted his pilot with a captain-y nod as he entered the bridge. "Wash."

"Everything alright, Mal? I thought I heard an alarm before."

"Hm? Alarm? Uh, yeah," Mal began to answer, distracted. "But, no cause for – alarm. Everything's shiny...real shiny." His lips twitched as he tugged on his suspenders and rocked back on his heels.

"O-kaay," said Wash slowly, as he scrutinized the captain. "Funny, but right now you're reminding me of a giddy school girl."

"Must be on account a' my youthful skin and high-pitched giggle. Also, truth to say," Mal leaned in and lowered his voice, "I do look very _shuai _in a skirt. It's been said."

Mal sauntered off the bridge, all but giving up his attempt to conceal his goofy grin.

Wash sank into the pilot's seat. His forehead scrunched as he pondered the captain's uncharacteristically upbeat mood. Turning to the flight console, he noticed that the stegosaurus and the triceratops were slightly askew from where he'd left them. _Ah,_ Wash thought knowingly, _Mal's been amusing himself playing with things that aren't his._

"So, guys," he said genially to his plastic friends, "What'd I miss?"

When Mal reached the door to his bunk, he paused a moment and rested a hand lightly on the ladder. He glanced back to ensure Wash was sufficiently distracted, then hastened to his true destination with a lightness of step borne not only from stealth.

* * *

Simon paced around his room adjusting random objects, but the cabin was already tidy. He couldn't imagine Mal would notice or care, in any case. He had stumbled back from the bridge in a lust-filled haze, but in the few minutes since, he was quickly beginning to over-think the whole situation. His brain was his biggest asset, but some days it was his biggest curse. When he was this strongly attracted to someone, he was capable of over-analysing things to the point of paralysing self-doubt.

Simon sat down on the edge of the bed. What exactly was about to happen between them? Well, he had a fair idea of what was about to take place, but would it have any meaning at all for Mal? His feelings for the captain ran deeper than he liked to admit. He could already imagine how mortifyingly awkward it would be tomorrow: passing him in the corridors and trying to figure out whether to make eye contact or not; sitting at the dinner table with all of them and pretending that none of it ever happened. Could he really go through with it, if it was just about the sex?

Simon's opinion of Mal had changed a great deal since the day he first stepped onto _Serenity_. The more he learned about the captain, the more he found to appreciate. Behind every seemingly cold-hearted or dangerous act was a morality, an ingenuity and a loyalty to his crew that had to be admired. Loyalty was something Simon could understand, although he still wasn't sure why Mal had extended that loyalty to him and his sister so readily in the early days. Regardless, it was something Simon would be eternally grateful for. He and River would no doubt be dead or imprisoned by now, if not for the captain.

But it was more than that. In Mal, he felt he had someone to shoulder the weight of the 'verse with him. Keeping River safe from the Alliance was a heavy burden to bear on his own.

And then of course there was that perfect ass. Not to mention the ruggedly handsome features, those incredible eyes, that disarming smile. Simon groaned inwardly at how hopelessly love-struck he was.

The door slid open and he sprang to his feet. As soon as he saw Mal with that roguish glint in his eye, he knew there was no way he could say no to him. Every part of him was at Mal's mercy, no matter how much he might regret it tomorrow.

Mal waltzed into the room like he owned it. _I suppose he does_, Simon thought ironically as he moved quickly to the door. After glancing out to make sure no one had seen the other man enter, he carefully slid the door closed. The captain wandered about, picking up and proceeding to misplace several of the items Simon had just rearranged. Mal briefly examined a name badge that bore a hospital insignia and read 'Dr Simon Tam, Trauma Surgeon'. He sniffed at Simon's bottle of cologne, then raised an eyebrow and sniffed again.

Simon moved back towards the centre of the small room and opened his mouth, but found himself at a loss for words. What does one say in a situation like this? He settled on "Hi."

"Hi yourself," said Mal, as he thumbed casually through a book of poetry from Earth-that-was. Then he set it down and strode slowly over to Simon, eyes for him alone. Mal may as well have been rummaging through his internal organs, the mess it left him in when the captain looked at him like that.

Mal stood in front of him, just inches away. Not close enough to be physically touching, but near enough to remind him of how intimately close they'd been only moments ago on the bridge. Simon's wide blue eyes were brilliant with emotion, saying far more than the young doctor ever would have. Mal could see it all: the incredible depth of Simon's feelings, his rising desire, the surrendering of his good sense in the face of it. But all that was under-written with trepidation – a fear of rejection, of giving and wanting more than could be returned. Mal leaned in and kissed him, just so he'd close those beautiful, tortured gorram eyes.

He wrapped his arms around the doctor as the kiss deepened, and Simon's blood turned to warm honey in his veins. If this was his one chance to be with Malcolm Reynolds, he would just have to make the most of it. He slipped his fingers under Mal's suspenders (_renci de fozu,_ how he'd longed to do that) and pushed them off his broad shoulders. Then he deftly unbuttoned the captain's shirt and slid his hands inside.

Mal realised the doctor had the advantage on him, all the times Simon must have removed his clothes while he was unconscious, to get at bullet holes and stab wounds. Mal sobered as he shrugged out of his shirt, thinking of just how many times the young man in front of him had kept him flying.

Simon gave him a gentle push in the direction of the bed, and Mal sat down. To his surprise, Simon dropped gracefully to his knees and eased the captain's boots off his feet. Despite himself, Mal was touched by the gesture. He pulled Simon up into his arms and they both fell lightly onto the bed together, a tangle of limbs and lips.

Mal rained soft kisses down on his face – his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids. He was rewarded with one of those rare and precious Simon Tam smiles. _Would you look at that,_ thought Mal with satisfaction. _Maybe the boy _can_ relax for more than thirty seconds._

They shed their pants and lay entwined on the bed, lips locked, fingers laced together. The mood in the cabin was as tender as their encounter on the bridge had been impassioned.

Mal's eyes and fingertips roamed over Simon's handsome physique, drinking in the pleasure of pale velvet skin over sculpted muscles, a stark contrast to Mal's brawny, tanned and scarred body. Then it was Simon's turn. He shifted on top of Mal and traced the length of his torso with his lips, nails and tongue, as if trying to memorise every part of him. He drew a line of wet kisses down Mal's chest. Then he found a nipple and moistened it with his tongue. At Mal's soft moan of encouragement, he took it gently in his teeth and tweaked the other with his fingertips.

He trailed lips and tongue down further and Mal felt his stomach muscles constrict. He moved lower still and traced the crease where hip met thigh, coming dangerously close, then moving teasingly away from Mal's hardened organ. Mal gave a moan of dismay and Simon smiled against his thigh at the sound. Then he stopped teasing.

Mal's breath hissed through his teeth as the moist warmth of Simon's mouth enveloped him. It had been longer than he cared to remember since someone had done that for him. Simon poured all his adoration into the act, worshipping Mal with his expert tongue. With every groan of pleasure from the captain, Simon's doubts retreated further into the shadowy corners of his mind. He knew they would come racing back once it was all over, but for now he let them lie.

Mal ran one hand through Simon's hair as he licked and swirled and sucked, and soon Mal's other hand was gripping the blanket as he fought the urge to buck his hips. It would all be over much too fast if the good doctor kept this up.

Simon's lips farewelled his erection with a long, languid kiss, then he moved back up to Mal's level. Mal pulled him close and kissed him soundly, a thank-you for the gift he'd just bestowed. Then he covered Simon's body with his own.

Simon revelled in the friction of Mal's hardened flesh against his, and reached eagerly for his ass. _Wo de ma_, how he adored that ass. He remembered the first time he saw it, just after the Lassiter heist, when they picked Mal up after he'd been left stranded without his clothes. Mal had sauntered past him in the corridor, in all his naked glory, and he could still remember how Mal had simply thrown him a winning smile and strode on, not even attempting to cover himself. Simon had stared, speechless, unable to tear his eyes away.

"Looks to be your chin on the floor there, Doctor. Might want to see to that," he'd tossed over his shoulder with a wry grin, leaving Simon blushing.

Now, Mal kissed him hungrily as he ground their hips together. Simon gripped both cheeks and thrust upwards to meet him with a moan.

Mal buried his face in Simon's neck and breathed in deep. He smelled of that musky, expensive cologne of his. Mal revelled in the heady scent. It was just so _Simon_: all refined and intoxicating, a pleasure to the senses. He sucked in another lungful as he ground down again. Simon spread his legs wider beneath Mal as his aching need intensified.

Then Mal was there, easing himself gently into Simon's tight warmth, a fraction at a time. Once he was buried to the hilt, he held still and found Simon's lips again with his own.

Before long, Simon began to shift underneath him, asking for more.

Mal moved slowly at first, but his thrusts grew deeper as Simon began to gasp his name over and over. He grit his teeth in his attempt to hold back so as not to cause Simon pain, changing his angle slightly to ensure he was giving the younger man as much pleasure as possible with every thrust.

"It's ok, Mal," Simon gasped, "you can – oh God...just keep-"

Mal plunged in ardently, again and again, and the intensity grew to an exquisite peak. Simon's lower lip caught between his teeth as waves of ecstasy crashed over him and his white hot seed filled the space between them. Mal had to crush his mouth against Simon's to muffle a cry that otherwise would have woken the whole ship, as he, too, surrendered to the burning blankness.

He collapsed with all his weight on Simon, both of them gasping for air. After a minute he rolled to the side, taking the younger man with him. Mal held him close and rested his sweaty brow against Simon's own.

It wasn't long before a weary contentment stole over them both.

"Will you stay?" Simon asked.

Mal didn't know if he meant for the night or forever. Didn't much matter though.

"Yeah, I'll stay."

* * *

**Chinese Translations**

_Shuai_ – cute

_Renci de fozu__** - **_Merciful Buddha

_Wo de ma_ – Mother of Jesus

* * *

**A/N:** Reviews and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **This chapter is quite different from the first two. It shows us a handful of moments that occur throughout the following day. Needless to say, I didn't really plan this fic out from the start, it just sort of took on a life of its own!

I'd like to say a huge thank-you to the wonderful writers who have provided feedback throughout the course of this fic. Your input and encouragement have been invaluable, I couldn't have done it without you!

* * *

As Mal's consciousness eased its way back into the waking world he became aware of the broad chest beneath his arm. A delicious warmth spread through him as he remembered that the body next to him was Simon Tam. He opened his eyes and let them rest on Simon's sleeping form as memories of the night before drifted back to him. He could have stayed right there for hours, doing just that.

"_Baobei_," Mal murmured in his ear, trying to wake him gently. He brushed Simon's dark hair aside and laid a kiss upon his forehead. Simon's eyelids fluttered open.

"Mal," he said with a soft smile, his voice husky with sleep.

_Lianren__, you're just too gorram cute, _Mal thought to himself. "I should be getting back to my bunk," he said. "Y' know, before the peanut gallery gets wise."

Simon gave a bleary-eyed nod of agreement. The last thing either of them wanted was the crew speculating on why Mal had spent the night in Simon's room. No doubt they'd draw some pretty quick conclusions, and they'd probably be right.

Simon reluctantly let him go, but not before pulling him in for a final kiss. Mal recovered his clothes from the floor and got dressed, then eased the cabin door open and peered out. Upon discovering the coast was clear, he threw Simon a 'wish-me-luck' grin and stepped into the hall, closing the door behind him.

His cautious movements through the ship belied the fact that he was actually pretty damn pleased with himself. He'd expected the doctor's shell to be tougher to crack. He knew Simon's life was consumed by River and that he never took time out for himself. Mal had suspected Simon was sweet on him too, but he hadn't been at all sure the younger man would allow himself to indulge those feelings.

He descended the ladder to his bunk with a private smile. That stargazing suggestion had worked better than he'd expected.

* * *

Simon rose at the usual time and headed to breakfast just like he always did. It would be hard enough to keep a secret like this on a ship this small and he didn't want to do anything to arouse suspicions. He topped the stairs and stepped into the corridor between the engine room and the galley. Right at that moment Mal and Jayne exited the dining area – and headed straight for him.

"All 'm sayin' is, just 'cause they been friendly in the past don't mean we can't take some stun grenades with us anyhow," said Jayne. Mal proceeded to tell him in no uncertain terms, and a few unsavoury Chinese ones, why his logic was flawed on that count.

_Normal, just act normal,_ Simon told himself. He was dismayed to discover that he had absolutely no recollection of what normal was. What did he usually do when he passed Mal in the corridors? Did he make eye contact? Did he say 'hello'? Did he walk straight past? Simon's eyes went everywhere as he tried desperately to figure out what someone who _hadn't_ spent the night with his arms around the captain would do. Then a sickening thought occurred to him. What if he'd been completely wrong about Mal? What if Mal was about to blank him because what they'd shared hadn't meant a thing?

Simon's stomach churned as the two men drew closer. At the last moment the captain slowed just enough to allow the merc in front of him. Jayne acknowledged Simon with a sneer and kept walking. From behind Jayne's back, Mal threw Simon a conspiratorial wink, along with a "Mornin', Simon." His tone was as casual as ever, but his gaze was decidedly warm.

Simon managed a "Good morning," in return and continued on down the corridor. He paused to wipe the smile off his face before he entered the dining area, but he could have been grinning like a Cheshire cat for all it mattered; the room was now empty.

He switched on the hotplate under the kettle and selected a foil packet from the draw. As he waited for the water to boil, it occurred to him that he had been dreading a similar passing-in-the-corridors scenario the night before when he was having doubts about sleeping with Mal. While the situation had still been a little awkward (for him, at least), it was a far cry from the agonizingly uncomfortable one that would have followed a one night stand. Things were turning out better than he could have hoped.

Hope. It had been so long since he'd felt hope. Sure, he'd had moments of cautious optimism regarding River's treatments, but what he felt right now was something else, a joyful, intoxicating anticipation.

Simon only realised he'd been staring off into the middle distance when he was roused from his musings by the arrival of the Shepherd. "Looks like you're thinking deeply on something there, son," the Shepherd commented as he began opening cupboards and collecting the makings of his own breakfast. Simon opened his mouth to respond but was only too grateful to be cut off by the shrieking of the kettle.

* * *

It was shaping up to be a quiet day for those left onboard _Serenity_. Zoe, Mal and Jayne were planet-side, expected back in a couple of hours from their latest job. Simon was in the infirmary conducting an inventory of his supplies.

River drifted into the room. "Gold," she murmured.

"Hm?" Simon looked up from his clipboard. Her eyes were gently closed and she had a wistful smile on her face, as if she was soaking up the rays of the sun on a cold morning.

"He makes you golden. It's not your colour, but it suits you."

"He, who?" he asked, his tone guarded.

She gave him a withering look. Simon decided it was best not to ask any more questions. He should have known she'd figure it out. He was still getting used to living with her enhanced mental capabilities.

"Don't need parapsychological abilities," she replied to his unvoiced thought. "Heard you through the wall," she said with a cheeky grin.

Simon's eyes widened. "You...heard?" A peal of laugher told him she was just teasing.

_Brat. _He narrowed his eyes at her and shook his head, trying not to smile.

"One moon circling," she informed him with conviction, then kissed him on the cheek and slipped out of the room.

* * *

Mal sat back and let Simon stitch up the gash on his chest. It wasn't deep, but the doctor had insisted it was still sizable enough to warrant a few sutures. As Simon bent over him, the infirmary's sharp antiseptic smell gave way to the sweeter scent of the doctor's cologne.

"I thought these people were amicable," Simon commented dryly as he worked. "What happened to 'shouldn't be any trouble' and 'it'd take a moron to send this job south'? What did you say to make one of them come at you with a knife?"

"What makes you so-"

Simon silenced him with a knowing look. "What did you say?" he repeated.

Mal conceded. "Can't recall exactly; may have said something – _in jest_ – about a few of them having an IQ on par with their smartest hog. Turns out they weren't amused. How was I to know? Those folk usually love me!"

"'_A man in hue all hues in his controlling, which steals men's eyes and women's souls amazeth,_'" Simon murmured wryly.

"Anyone ever tell you you're cute when you're a nerd?" asked Mal. "That from that poetry book a' yours? The one got no pictures in it?"

Simon gave him an exasperated look. "'_Methinks_ _I am enamour'd of an ass.'_"

Mal's eyes narrowed, then a wolfish grin tugged at one side of his mouth. "If you're gonna be using this poetry _feiwu_ at my expense then I think I'd best be gettin' to know my enemy. How's about you bring that book by my bunk after dinner tonight?"

Simon raised an eyebrow at the thought of Mal taking an interest in literature of any sort, but he gave a nod of agreement as he tied off the last suture. Then he realised that Mal had just invited him to the captain's quarters that night.

As his patient rose and buttoned his shirt, Simon began to rattle off instructions about caring for the wound, but the captain cut him off with "Don't worry, I know a good doctor."

Mal swept his eyes over the common area outside the infirmary. While the dull thuds and scrapes of crates being unloaded still echoed from the cargo hold, the immediate vicinity was temporarily free of onlookers. Mal swung his eyes back towards the doctor and fixed him with a smoky gaze. Simon had no defences against that look.

The captain pulled him into a heated kiss – the fact that they could be caught at any moment making it all the more fevered. Simon matched it with a fire of his own as he wrapped Mal in a strong embrace and pressed their bodies hard against each other. The captain moaned involuntarily as the doctor's questing tongue plunged into his mouth.

Fuelled by the intensity of their shared desire, the kiss took on a passion of its own, sweeping both of them up in a turbulent sea. Mal's hands ranged restlessly over all the parts of Simon he could reach, and still that wasn't enough. All other sensory perception was drowned out as they were consumed by their awareness of each other.

Mal managed to break away before he was completely undone by it. They were both left holding each other and gasping for air.

Finally, the captain cleared his throat. "Uh, thanks." He seemed to be having a little trouble using words. "You know, for the..." He motioned towards the general area of Simon's handiwork, now hidden under his shirt. The doctor just nodded and let Mal find his own way out the door.

Simon took a deep breath and began to tidy up as he waited for his racing pulse to slow.

* * *

Simon moved towards the dinner table with two laden plates in hand. He put one in front of River, then sat down to the other. The rest of the crew resolved themselves around the table, filling the room with chatter and laughter. Mal pulled up the chair beside him, a move that, while not unprecedented, was not a common occurrence. Simon looked up, but the captain's eyes were trained on Zoe on the other side of the table as they debated the finer details of the story Mal was telling.

"Covered in lace, sure as the sky is blue," said Zoe.

Wash grimaced. "The sky is black, dear," he said apologetically, jerking a thumb towards the windows above the dining hall.

"I distinctly remember polka dots," Mal insisted.

Simon dutifully returned his gaze to his plate, but had cause to eyeball his meal a moment later as Mal moved his leg so it was flush against Simon's own under the table. Simon risked the briefest of sidelong glances, but Mal was still seemingly engrossed in the discussion about the lieutenant's underwear. Simon forked a piece of protein into his mouth, hoping the smile he was trying to suppress would be less obvious when combined with the action of chewing. So here they were, sitting at the dinner table with everyone and pretending it never happened, but not in the way he'd imagined.

* * *

Mal lay in his bunk, the blood pulsing a little faster than usual through his veins. He knew Simon would wait until late to limit the chances of being seen entering Mal's bunk, but what the doctor didn't yet realise was that it was impossible to keep a secret like this on a ship this small.

No doubt the crew would be a mite surprised when they inevitably found out. Mal could conjure others might find it hard to see any similarities between the Core-bred, well-mannered doctor and a farm boy from the Rim like himself, but their two very different lives had some unexpected parallels.

In Simon, Mal saw another soldier at war with the Alliance. Overwhelmingly outmatched, Simon spent every day fighting for his freedom, just like himself. That alone had been enough for Mal to let them stay on board all those months ago, but it went deeper than that.

Mal knew what it was like to put everything on the line for what you knew to be right. Simon's all-consuming loyalty to River, the lengths he'd gone to for her, Mal could understand that. Probably would have done the same in his position, though he knew many a man who wouldn't have.

He was also no stranger to losing parts of who you were on account of the Alliance. He recalled the hospital name badge he'd seen in the doctor's room. To his mind, it spoke volumes about Simon that one of the few possessions he'd brought with him from his old life was something he would never again have a use for. And the way he kept it out on the shelf in plain sight, like a trophy symbolizing all he'd achieved – or perhaps it was more like a memorial to everything he'd lost. Regardless, it was a daily reminder of what he'd had, the person he used to be, before it was all taken from him.

At first he'd assumed River's rescue, while an admirable feat, had been achieved in a fleeting moment of bravado, and that the boy had no real backbone. But as the months passed and Mal had the opportunity to observe Simon's tireless dedication to his sister, not to mention his calm control while holding death at bay on that operating table, he became aware of a subtle strength to him that had to be admired.

Easy to misjudge though, what with the expensive clothes and the perfect skin that gave the impression he'd never had to work for a thing in his life. And those pretty eyes of his would throw anyone off, what with their long, dark lashes. And why'd he always have to smell so gorram good? It befuddled the senses.

Mal was roused from his thoughts by the sound of the hatch opening. He rose to his feet as Simon descended the ladder: shiny shoes, dark pants, leather belt, silk vest, crisp white shirt open at the throat, strong jaw, those _shuai_ blue eyes and finally the dark hair. It was getting just a little long (been a while since they'd stopped somewhere with a decent barber), but Mal kind of liked it that way. Gave the illusion that maybe he'd relaxed a little. Or maybe it wasn't an illusion.

"I brought the book," Simon announced, holding it up.

"Gee, thanks," said Mal with false sincerity, taking it from him and tossing it onto a chair.

In response to Simon's raised eyebrows, Mal said, "I was lyin'. Don't _actually _need it."

He took Simon's face in his hands and recited, "_A woman's face, with Nature's own hand painted, hast thou, the Master Mistress of my passion_." Mal watched in amusement as the doctor's reaction played out across his handsome features.

Simon experienced several emotions in quick succession. Surprise, of course, that Mal had even heard of Shakespeare; embarrassment that Mal must have known exactly which sonnet he was referring to when he made that quip earlier in the day; then confusion as he tried to decide whether to be complimented or insulted by the line Mal had just attributed to him. There was also a degree of begrudging respect as he noted the irony of Mal now quoting Shakespeare at _his_ expense. His brows knit and his mouth worked as he attempted to respond.

"How...?"

"Just 'cause I ain't had your fancy schoolin' don't mean I ain't had no schoolin' at all," said Mal, then he put an end to further discussion by catching Simon's lips in his own. He ran his hands over the rich fabric of Simon's vest as he wrapped his arms around the younger man.

Simon put his confusion aside and melted into the embrace, moulding himself to the captain and drinking in his closeness.

Mal got an inkling that he was providing something Simon desperately needed. The doctor was always there for his sister, but Simon could stand to have someone there for him. Mal conjured he could fill that role, and as he thought on the notion he got a feeling in his belly. It was something akin to the buzz of contentment that accompanies a glass of rich, smooth scotch. It warmed him right through, leaving a ribbon of fire in its wake. He didn't want to name the feeling just yet, but he savoured it all the same.

Simon let Mal guide him to the bed. _An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling, gilding the object whereupon it gazeth_, Simon thought to himself, before surrendering to the mindless peace that came from knowing Mal was there to help him find his way amongst the stars.

* * *

**A/N:** I really enjoyed writing this fic, and I hope you enjoyed reading it. Please leave a review! :D

* * *

**Chinese Translations**

_Baobei – _sweetheart

_Lianren - _lover

_Feiwu_ – junk

_Shuai _- cute

* * *

**Shakespearian Quotes**

"_Methinks I am enamour'd of an ass"_ – paraphrasing Titania from Act IV Scene I of _A Midsummer Night's Dream._

The rest is from a sonnet that (as I understand it) portrays the author's affection for a charming and attractive man by describing his qualities in comparison to a woman.

**Sonnet No. 20**

A woman's face, with Nature's own hand painted,

Hast thou, the Master Mistress of my passion;

A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted

With shifting change, as is false woman's fashion;

An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling;

Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth;

A man in hue all hues in his controlling,

Which steals men's eyes and women's souls amazeth.

And for a woman wert thou first created;

Till Nature as she wrought thee, fell adoting.

And by addition me of thee defeated

By adding one thing to my purpose nothing.

But since she prick'd thee out for women's pleasure,

Mine be thy love, and thy love's use their treasure.


End file.
